Lalithine Lestrange Riddle
by Bellethiel Merilwen
Summary: Comfort had set in once the Dark Lord had been defeated. But when a girl threatens the Potter's way of life, everything is turned around. Who is she and what exactly is her purpose?
1. Chapter 1 :: Tainted Blood

The leaves surrounded her, providing what she deemed to be a decent hiding place from her less than worthy foes. Her harsh golden eyes measured the tiny home, wondering how on earth such an idiotic family could resist the Dark Lord. She drew her wand steadily, and waited for the opportune moment. Her keen ears picked up on everything around her. What she hadn't noticed; however, was the wizard behind her. He grabbed her gruffly by the back of her cloak, hauling her toward the cottage-style house with surprising force from a thirty-six year old man. Harry Potter hauled her into his home, pinning her against the round kitchen table. "Who are you?" His voice was rested, better than the voice she had heard so many years ago outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "What's wrong Potter," she spat venomously, "Don't you recognize me?" Silence, Harry grabbed her left arm and pushed up the sleeve of her maroon shirt. It had been marked, a skull and snake, the Dark Mark. "Death Eater," he mumbled to himself. It didn't make sense to him, she knew, that there still could be her kind after the Dark Lord was defeated. He stated as much, "Who do you serve now, girl? Voldemort's dead, there's no one else." "I serve no witch or wizard of any position," she said bitterly, "Only myself." A flash of red hair and a loud popping noise announced the arrival of Potter's wife, Ginny. "Harry, there's still gnomes over at-" She broke off upon noticing her husband pinning the girl to the old table, the dark mark on her left forearm added to the diversion. "What's happening?" "I'm about do find out," Harry replied before turning back to the girl, "Who are you? And please don't start with your damn nostalgia, I want your name and I want it now. Or I send to straight to Azkaban." The girl displayed plain fury on her pretty face before she regrouped, "Then send me, Potter, because I belong there." Ginny caught Harry's eye for a moment, holding up one finger in an effort to calm him. "And why is that?" Ginny's voice was much calmer than her husbands, as though she had much practice with stubborn people like this girl.

"Because," the girl whispered before looking up into Ginny's eyes, "I came here to kill you." There was a moment of silence before the fight broke out. The girl on the table twisted around to deliver a strong kick to Harry's jaw, knocking the round glasses askew. But as soon as the girl whipped around for Ginny, she was hit in the chest with the spell. It knocked her backwards, onto the clean tiled floor. And in a blink, Ginny was standing over her, hands on her hips and her wand ready in her right hand. "I suggest you not try that again," she said steadily as Harry picked himself off the floor, "Now, I'm going to ask you this once – only once – and I want you to give me a very straight answer." She bent down, pointing the tip of her wand at the girl's throat, "What's your name?" The girl swallowed and her gold eyes darted from Harry to Ginny before she finally opened her mouth to speak. "My name is Lalithine Lestrange Riddle. Nineteen years ago, your husband killed my family."


	2. Chapter 2 :: For Every Sin

Harry exchanged a glance with Ginny, unable to comprehend what the girl had just said. "So you're saying," he said while still looking at his wife, "That Voldemort and Bellatrix…" Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust, "Ew." Lalithine snarled from her position on the floor, apparently irritated with the entire conversation. "What do we do with her?" Ginny asked with the sudden revelation that the girl was still sprawled out on the ground. Harry shrugged, though he seemed deep in thought. "Azkaban it is then," Ginny said. She grabbed Lalithine by the upper arm and hoisted her up, pulling her towards the front door. "Wait," Harry interrupted and Ginny stopped immediately. He walked up to the girl, his green eyes bringing back their old intensity, she avoided his gaze. "How many others?" Lalithine shook her head, not quite defeated; Harry grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. Her golden eyes flashed and her jaw twitched, but still she kept her silence. A battle of wills pursued; however, in the end, it was him who surrendered with a drawn out sigh. "There might be others," Harry mumbled to his wife. "Can we risk it?" She replied. He shook his head, trying to straighten the jumbled thoughts within it. "The kids are gone, at least we have that-" "Harry," Ginny cried, "You're not suggesting we keep her _here_?" Her hands tightened around Lalithine, causing the girl to flinch. Harry shut his eyes tightly, rubbing the old scar on his forehead, "What choice do we have? If we let her go, if she escapes from Azkaban, you know where she'll go first." Lalithine smiled to herself, they knew she was after the children as well. In such a circumstance, an entire family must be brought to justice, not just a few choice members. She would try to bring the kids down with their parents, maybe even torture the Longbottom fellow while she was at it. "Fine," Ginny spat, "We'll keep the little Death Eater here, if that makes you happy." "It doesn't make me _happy_, Ginny. But if she somehow escapes-" "How could she escape? There's no way," Ginny shouted in desperation. She did not want this filth in her home, poisoning her family, her husband. Lalithine grinned evilly, "Oh, you'd be quite surprised what I can accomplish when I set my mind to it." The tone of her voice was chipper, almost matter-of-fact, a voice Harry had never heard before. "You were there the night I killed Voldemort?" He inquired. She hissed in annoyance, "Yes I was there, Potter! I saw it!" Harry's eyes narrowed, "I don't remember seeing you." "Because I hid in the trees," Lalithine's jaw snapped shut after her last comment as she silently scolded herself for her hot temper. "Hid in the trees," Harry laughed, "What a faithful follower you are!" "I WAS FOUR," she screamed suddenly, her pale face red with concentrated rage, "FOUR YEARS OLD AND I WATCHED YOU KILL THEM!" "It had to be done;" Harry said calmly, "Voldemort would not have created a suitable world to raise you in."

Lalithine dissolved into a coughing fit, and found Ginny had let her go. In fact, Ginny was no where to be seen. She sank to her knees, unable to hold her own body weight while her lungs grasped greedily for clean air. "What makes your world any better, Potter? What makes you any different from Him?" "Everything," Harry replied too quickly. He had given her the advantage she had hoped for. He had given her a reason to unleash everything. "Oh! _Really_? So you can look me in the eyes, and tell me that you didn't murder a small child's family? You can say that you never doubted Dumbledore's reign? You can honestly tell me that you never let your friends – your followers – die to save your own skin. Face it, Potter, you're one in the same. I'm _homeless_ because of you; I'm _parentless_ because of you, outlawed because of _you_. You're everything that's wrong with this world." He reached up and yanked her hood down deliberately, taking in the strange white sheen of her skin, the stringy black hair, the golden eyes. She looked remarkably like a mix between her two parents, a mix between the disturbed Bellatrix and the young Tom Riddle. Harry pointed his wand at her throat, "You've been sorely misinformed, Ms. Riddle. If I've made your life so miserable, I apologize, but I think it's time you've learned the truth." Lalithine hung her head, her black hair hiding her expression, "I know the truth." "Then you'll stay here until you learn the rest of it."


	3. Chapter 3 :: Truth

Lalithine stared at him steadily, "Nothing you can say will turn me against them, Potter." Her voice was proud, though he could sense some kind of pain behind it. "I'm not aiming for that," he replied quietly, "I'll tell you the truth – the whole truth – and you can pick your leaders after that." He removed his wand from her throat, and offered a hand to help her up. With a deep scowl, she pushed the helping hand away and stood herself. Her stance was proud, Harry observed, no doubt from years of lies and manipulation. With a sweeping gesture, he indicated that she should sit down. She gave him an icy glare, but obeyed without trouble. "Where's your waif?" She asked with a clipped tone. "She didn't want to be here when I told the story; she lost a brother due to your father's misadventure." With a satisfied smirk, Lalithine leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, "Well then, by all means, tell me your precious 'truth' so I can kill you already." At first, Harry found that he could not seem to find the words to describe his lifetime of fighting the Dark Lord. "A long time ago," he began lamely, "Your father killed my parents…"

She listened surprising well, for a Death Eater, and made no interruptions. There were times where Harry could sense her hate, where he could see the excitement rush through her expression as he explained the death and destruction. She was sick, twisted, but perhaps that was only a cover for what had been considered weak by her peers. The more he told her, the more Harry hoped he could convince her that she could live a life without killing. But nothing seemed to faze her; she only sat there smirking at her father's evilest accomplishments. She even dared to laugh at Fred Weasley's death. And then, Harry wiped the smirk from her pretty face. He told her, in detail, exactly how Voldemort and Bellatrix died. Though he supposed she may remember the incident, he wanted to be certain that she knew the events leading it up to it as well. He could tell it wounded her, as it had wounded him when he learned his father was not the God Harry had imagined. He took little pleasure in her pain, nearly ignoring it altogether. When he finished, he measured her reaction. Lalithine sat with her hands folded politely in her lap, her eyes curiously dead as she looked at Harry through thick lashes. "Are you done?" She asked, her voice in simple monotone, hiding anything she happened to be thinking at that moment. Harry nodded, "I'm finished." "Good," she announced before she shot up and with one hand, knocked the table clear across the room before lunging on Harry. He barely had time to grab his wand as she slammed into him. The force sent them both to the floor, where Lalithine then proceeded to savagely beat the boy who lived with her fist until he caught his bearings. With a bright flash, she was hit in the chest with a spell for the second time that night. The force had not rendered her unconscious, but it did shock her long enough for Harry to regain his ground. His nose was bleeding, and there was a bruise forming on his cheek. Obviously Ms. Riddle was a tad bit more bloodthirsty than her father or mother, though that hardly seemed possible. Lalithine let out a loud groan and covered her head with both arms as she felt the vibration of Harry's heavy footsteps come toward her. He nudged her with his foot. "Try that again," he grunted with a voice that was disfigured from the blood in the back of his throat, "And you _will_ regret it." She lowered her arms and grinned, "Is that a promise? A fact? Oh, this is exciting!" With a tense jaw, Harry hauled her off the floor, his wand poking menacingly in-between her shoulder blades. "Up the stairs," he snarled. Lalithine grinned wider, "Well, aren't you accommodating." The wand jabbed her again, it seemed Harry was hell bent on proving his strength. After all, she thought numbly, he defeated the Dark Lord. If she had a wand, she could have killed him already, but it had been lost during their scuffle outside. Her legs worked mechanically, left, right, left, marching her up the stairs to the second floor. "This room," he said, reaching for a knob on the left. He flung opened the door and pushed her roughly inside, causing her to trip slightly. When she righted herself, she turned around to face him.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Potter, but don't think this means I'm finished. As I've already demonstrated, I don't need a wand to kill you. Hope Ginny darling can take a hit like you can!" With a slam, Harry made her mocking face disappear. Lalithine pressed her ear to the door and heard his exit, but when her hand moved to the doorknob, it was scalding. "ARGH," she screamed, withdrawing her hand and moving instead to the windows, same problem. Cursing loudly, she left a nice dent in the wall with her fist. After several more less fruitful attempts to escape, Lalithine asserted that she wouldn't be leaving tonight. Yet when one door closes, another one opens, and so another diabolical plan entered the depths of her twisted mind. Harry had won this battle, but she'd be damned if he ever won the war.


	4. Chapter 4 :: Sympathic Feelings

**Shout-Outs:**

**Ms. Willow Gosermer** Thank you for liking the short chapters, I don't want to overwhelm people with really long chapter. And I'll do that dialogue thing, which (by the way) I just learned about in English.

**The Story:**

A clanging noise caused Lalthine's body to jerk up in immediate response, her fists where clenched tightly, and her eyes burned with fear. Her posture relaxed as she realized that it had only been a metal serving tray, dropped on the floor to awaken her from the nearly comatose state. Lalithine hadn't slept in days, thanks to her pursuit of the Potter family. Breakfast had been set on it, bread and milk, more nourishment than she had laid her eyes on in weeks. It must have been his doing, Ginny wouldn't have let her eat, wouldn't have given her a reason to stay. She fixed Harry a particularly nasty glare before digging into the food like a famished animal. Harry appeared to be disgusted by her lack of manners; his nose wrinkled with disdain as she tore off a large chunk of the bread, revealing slightly sharpened incisors. She made a grumbling noise in the back of her throat as she downed the milk, a sound of pleasure, a sound that meant 'thank you.' He watched her devour the food in silence, noting the similarities and differences between her and Bellatrix and the Dark Lord. He could see the Dark Mark on her left forearm as she ate, the harsh ink stood out against the dewy white of her flesh.

"How old were you," Harry asked, "when they gave you the mark?"

Lalithine froze, intentionally averting his gaze. She stared into the distance, wishing he would just keep that big trap of his closed. Memories flooded her, she could see herself as a little girl, forced onto a bench…but she pushed it away desperately. Her thoughts were not safe, she had been told, Potter would know. Her jaw closed automatically, twitching a little from the strain. Harry had seen the change in her immediately, the stiffness that seemed to overtake her animalistic nature; she seemed more restrained and, if he dared think it, a bit more sophisticated. She placed the bread neatly on the platter, next to the empty glass; her eyes returned to that curiously dead expression that he had seen the night before. She really was a fascinating creature, even if she did seem a tad bit insane.

"Can I have my wand back?" she asked quietly.

He laughed at that, loudly, at her pitiful attempt to divert his attention. It would not work. Over the last nineteen years, he had learned every trick in the book from his children. James was the best at it, though that didn't last long at all once Harry and Ginny caught on. There had been quite an episode when James had lost his ability to trick his parents. A nostalgic smile planted itself on Harry's face.

"Are you going to behave?" he countered. She shook her head with that playful smirk. "Then no," he continued, "your wand is confiscated until you learn to play nice. And anyway, you won't need it while you're here. But I asked you a question. It would be polite for you give me an answer, or that's how it works in a normal conversation. I don't know how you were raised, but-" "I was five," she answered to silence his incessant babbling; "a year after you killed my mother and father. I didn't want it done at the time; they had to strap me down to keep me from fighting back." There, she thought smugly, let him make what he wanted of that.

She saw his smile disappear, his eyes softened and she turned back to the bread. Her bony hands pulled off small portions of the bread, rolled them into little balls, and then placed them back onto the tray as Harry let her truth sink in. So she hadn't wanted to join them at first, perhaps that rebellious nature was still in her, somewhere. But something she said had bothered him, she implied again that there were others. Still, more believed that Voldemort could return and they must be dealt with. If only he could get more information, more clues about their whereabouts or intentions. As he watched her, Lalithine seemed to fall into herself and he realized it would take more than a few sympathetic words or feelings to shake her.


	5. Chapter 5 :: Understanding

Harry blinked several times, pulling himself back into the present as Lalithine watched him guardedly. He seemed completely focused on her, though she knew that was only from years of acting with Hermione and Ronald Weasley. If she had learned anything in that dreadful 'orphanage' it had been that Harry was a _very_ dangerous man. He had been the boogeyman to the 'orphans' the untouchable, frightening one, that killed their leader. The wizard who killed their _God_, the wizard who killed her father; she stoop up slowly, letting her long legs untangle themselves from beneath her. Potter seemed hesitant, and back away from her. That only made her smirk as she walked closer to him.

"I know what happens," Lalithine whispered while circling around her prey, "when you stand there and look at me, when your eyes cloud over just a little…you're _acting_, aren't you, Potter?" A full blown smile reached her features, "Itty bitty _baby_ Potter, knows how play!" The words her mother had used made Harry's skin crawl, but he stayed silent. "Little Potter," she continued venomously, "you lead Weasley and Granger around like a couple of blind mutts, blind, deaf, and incredibly dumb. You destroyed their families, all so you could kill a little girl's mother and father. How do you sleep at night? You sick, twisted-" 

"ENOUGH!"

Her words were nothing, when compared with the truth; it was a fact that he had put his friends in danger time after time. He tried his best to keep them from harm, but he couldn't protect them all. And they had been so stubborn, insisting on helping him when he told then what the consequences could be. He grabbed Lalithine's wrist and twirled her around so her back was against him, his wand was out in an instant and pressed against her throat like a sword.

"You don't know what happened that night, or any other night," he hissed in her ear, "you only believe what they told you was right."

"What difference does it make?" she asked, clawing uselessly at him in an effort to escape, "I've been told the truth, the truth that you've ignored!"

His grip tightened, but he said nothing for a long while. He wrestled with his thoughts, as well as the deadly girl in his grasp. She was cunning, trying to knock down his defenses, every wall he had built during the last years of his war with Voldemort. Those were the wall Ginny had said he didn't anymore, but he kept them up as a precaution. But Lalithine, she knew how to cut through them one by one. Almost as though she had been taught how to do such a thing – his eyes widened in astonishment.

"They taught you this, didn't they?" Harry asked her.

"Taught me _what_?"

"_This_, everything you're doing now, it was learned, it was the way they _wanted_ you to be," he replied quickly. Excitement mixed in with tone. Good for him, Lalithine thought dryly, at least _someone_ was having fun.

"Yes, well, that's better than anything you want me to be," she snorted.

She would never give him the satisfaction of knowing anything about her, where she grew up, how she came to be at his house. Potter should have known better than to try and solve this puzzle. She would take him down, his wife, his children. The victor, she had always been the victor. Even at the orphanage, with the other gifted children, she had been the most special. Nothing he could say would win her over and make her believe. She knew the truth about him.


	6. Chapter 6 :: Helping Hands

Harry released Lalithine, though part of him screamed to keep her in close range. She stumbled across the room stiffly, and whipped around so fast that her white hair splayed across her face. Harry's green eyes turned thoughtful as he watched her, she didn't seem like anything special at first glance. In the light of morning, he could see her better and immediately began to assert her. She seemed tall for her age [which he estimated to be about twenty three years, and her body shape was nearly impossible to determine since her clothes appeared to be too big. Her jaw looked almost too strong and her eyes were slanted harshly. But upon further inspection, it was plain that Lalithine had been bred for battle. It was clear from her posture, which was perfectly straight from years of what he suspected was some type of military-like training. Wherever she had come from, they certainly taught her well. She glared at him evenly, uncomfortable with his close scrutiny. Her jaw twitched as she studied him as well, somewhat taken aback at the fact that something that scrawny could beat the Dark Lord. He had help, she scolded herself, and his followers had participated just as much. He didn't seem that bright _alone_. In fact, she assumed, the Granger girl had probably led Potter and Weasley around by their ears. Information pooled and collected in her brain, like blood it pulsed throughout her body, giving her life. Lalithine had been trained for this, to pick up the most hidden secrets of her prey by their stance alone. She could tell when they were lying, when they spoke the truth, and tidbits of their past lives. In the 'orphanage' she had been considered unusually perceptive, and she was proud of that fact.

"What now?" her tone was unreadable, distant. Harry turned away from her, heading toward the door.

"For now, I've got business to do," he said casually over his shoulder, "I'll have to leave you alone for now, but I'm sure you can behave yourself until I get back. Don't even bother trying to run off again; it'll be about as hopeless as last night."

She scowled, but chose to keep her mouth shut as he shut the door behind him. Her hand reached for the knob and she let out an annoyed yelp as the metal burned her flesh. Moments later, she was cradling her wounded hand against her chest and was struggling to open the window instead. Fruitless effort after fruitless effort began to take its toll, and frustration flowed through her body. Grabbing the small wooden chair from its desk in the corner and viciously beat it against the floor. Much to her disappointment, it broke after only five blows. Clenching her teeth in disgust, she tossed the fragments aside and set to work on the next object. For hours, she picked up random objects in the room and broke them, till the room was covered in debris. With a satisfied smile, she sat cross legged on the bed and folded her arms against her chest, waiting for Potter to come back.

-----------------------------------

Harry knocked repeatedly on the wooden door, waiting for a familiar face to open it.

"I know you're there," he shouted in irritation, "open up!"

He could hear muffled giggling, then footsteps as someone approached the door. There was a moment of hesitation before the door flew open to reveal Hermione's smiling face. Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug, while Ron grinned in the background. Harry noticed at once, to his embarrassment, that both their clothes weren't exactly straight

"It's wonderful to see you again, Harry!" Hermione hadn't seen him since the kids had started school, time had simply not allowed it.

"Yeah," Ron said with his wide grin, "we were beginning to think the worst; like maybe something bad happened…I bet its Ginny's fault somehow."

"Oh, something happened alright," Harry laughed, "but it was in no way, shape, or form, Ginny's fault."

"Well, come on and tell us about it, already!" Ron replied before grabbing his friend's arm and dragging him into the house. The trio sat around the table, like old times, and listened with puzzled expressions as Harry recounted his adventure thus far with the infamous Lalithine.

"Where is she now?" Hermione asked.

"Locked us in Albus' room for now," he answered, "until we can figure out what to do with her."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, shocked that he would keep such a danger in his home. Harry Potter had been slipping on his defenses lately, without the threat of his age old enemy to keep him in line. He caught their look, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Wow," Ron said with a stiff laugh, "I bet Ginny took that _really_ well."

Harry winced, "she stormed off to your parents…she'll be okay though, won't she?"

Ron shook his head with an almost hostile air, "you git, I'm sure she'll be alright, but she's going to be one very unhappy lady for awhile. Don't forget what Bellatrix did."

She was the one who had killed Fred, Harry had nearly forgotten about that. He mentally bet that Ron would vote to send Lalithine straight to Azkaban, just as Ginny had. No wonder she had been so angry, he really _was_ a git. Ronald said as much, cursing the unlucky girl's bloodline and the like, then proclaiming that she should rot in Azkaban with the rest of 'her lot.'

"It's not that easy, Ron," Hermione sighed, "she obviously has some very important information that could be useful to us-"

"Us?" Harry interrupted. Memories flooded his mind from their past adventures. "I don't see a bloodthirsty descendent of pure evil locked in your kid's room, how is this information beneficial to _you_?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," she snapped, "We're going to help you with this. Besides, if you didn't want us to help, why'd you come?"

He didn't have an answer to that one, and so he sat silently while his two friends bickered about what to do with the girl locked in the Potter's household. In the back of his mind, something familiar pulled at him, something threatening.


End file.
